


Devoutly I Adore Thee

by MovesLikeBucky



Series: 12 Days of Blasphemy 2020 [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Established Relationship, Frottage, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), Top Aziraphale (Good Omens), Wet Dream, but not really, somnophilia if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:47:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28317726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MovesLikeBucky/pseuds/MovesLikeBucky
Summary: A sleepy evening in the South Downs, an angel devoutly adores his demon.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: 12 Days of Blasphemy 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2073915
Comments: 20
Kudos: 176
Collections: 12 Days of Blasphemy 2020, Top Aziraphale Recs





	Devoutly I Adore Thee

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt: 
> 
> “O Godhead hid, devoutly I adore Thee,” from Adoro Te Devote
> 
> Hello friends get ready for 12 days of nonsense! xD
> 
> This is the first of 12 fills for my dear friend D20Owlbear's 12 Days of Blasphemy challenge <3
> 
> And a special thanks to Obsessionful for the beta read <3 <3

Aziraphale licks the tip of his finger as he turns the page of his book. The lamplight glows low in the cottage, the hour is getting late. Crowley is snuggled up beside him, wound around like the snake that he is. They’re here in their home, in their bed. Grateful, to be sure, but not to anything holy or hellish other than each other.

Crowley nuzzles against his chest, arms wound around Aziraphale tight. This free affection that comes so easily. Aziraphale takes note of the telltale bulge in Crowley’s pajamas, but decides not to wake him. After all, he’s just getting to the good bit of his book, and they have all the time in the world now.

“Hrmn angel…” Crowley sighs in his sleep, entwining their legs together. It’s a tight grip. Constricting. As though close could never be close enough. Aziraphale kisses the top of his head, then turns another page.

He’s content to sit here in the lamplight with Crowley’s sleepy musings, to card his fingers through his dear demon’s hair and let him slumber. That is, until he feels Crowley rubbing against his leg. 

It starts off small at first, enough to be mistaken for twitches, nothing concerning. But it builds and grows, until Crowley is gripping him like a lifeline, rutting against his thigh slow and deliberate in his sleep. Aziraphale decides it’s time to wake him, but takes a momentary joy that he apparently sets the pace in Crowley’s dreams as well.

“Darling, Crowley,” Aziraphale says as he strokes Crowley’s sweat-damp cheek with the back of his knuckles, “I’m going to need you to wake up now, love.” Crowley’s face screws into a nigh unreadable expression that Aziraphale quickly recognizes as confusion. He kisses Crowley’s furrowed brow, “Darling, you’re asleep, I need you to wake up.”

Yellow eyes open slowly, languidly. The ochre is still stretched to the edges in sleepiness; Crowley never quite has a full hold on them until after he gets his bearings. “Hullo ‘Ziraphale,” he slurs sleepily, “wha’d ya wake me up for? Was having the nicest dream.”

“I know, darling,” Aziraphale says, flicking his eyes to where Crowley’s legs are wrapped around him, to where there’s a slowly spreading wet spot on the front of the demon’s pajamas. “You made it quite clear just how lovely a dream you were having.” Aziraphale kisses Crowley on the nose as he watches the wheels turn in the demon’s head.

“Oh fuck’s sake, I didn’t…”

“You did.” Aziraphale says full of fondness, suppressing a laugh.

“Fuck, m’sorry, angel, didn’t mean to was just nice and all and—“

Aziraphale silences him with a kiss, one full of promise and question. One that Crowley knows all too well. “Shush, darling,” Aziraphale says as his fingers trace the waistband of Crowley’s pajamas, “And do let me take care of you.”

“If I’m not still dreaming,” Crowley says with a smirk, kissing Aziraphale again and wrapping his arms around the angel’s neck, “Always, dove, you never need to wonder.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Aziraphale whispers against his lips as he slides his hand past Crowley’s elastic waistband and cups his ass, squeezing the pert firmness of it. Crowley kisses him deeply, serpent tongue slithering past Aziraphale’s teeth, wanting to taste and be consumed in equal measure. Aziraphale knows his husband, knows his wants and what makes him tick. Knows the shape of the hitch in Crowley’s breath as his finger passes over Crowley’s hole, teasing and promising at the same time. Crowley pulls back, Aziraphale’s lip between his teeth, as he pushes back onto Aziraphale’s hand, encouraging him to get a move on.

“Patience is a virtue, darling,” Aziraphale coos as he swats Crowley on the ass.

“Not in this bed it isn’t,” Crowley snarls as he pushes Aziraphale onto his back and straddles his hips. Aziraphale just rolls his eyes, moves to reach for the nightstand. Crowley snaps his fingers before Aziraphale makes it there, and he finds his fingers already coated in lubricant.

“Really, darling?” Aziraphale says in fond exasperation.

“Told you, no patience in this bed,” Crowley presses hot open-mouthed kisses to his neck and chest as he rolls back onto Aziraphale’s hand again, begging in his own way for what he wants.

Aziraphale goes slow, pushes one finger inside of Crowley. Relishes the stretch and the heat of him as he breaches him slowly, works him open. “Always in such a hurry, in your car and in the bed, you should learn—“ Aziraphale crooks his finger just so, causing Crowley to falter and his kiss to turn to a moan “—that sometimes you need to slow down and savor things.” 

“Can’t help it angel, just need you.” Crowley pushes back onto him, taking his finger in deeper, stubborn thing that he is. “Want you in me, want you around me, just need you.”

“And you are always so good to me, dearest,” Aziraphale brings a second finger to join the first, scissoring and opening him, committing the arch of his back to memory. Relishing the way the sweat on Crowley’s skin tastes as he sucks bruises into the soft flesh of the demon’s neck. He pulses his fingers in and out, stretching Crowley open, getting him ready in the human way.

“Angel,” Crowley whimpers, fingers buried in blond curls gripping for purchase, “Angel, please, need you, ready for you.”

He whines when Aziraphale removes his fingers, but scrambles down the bed to pull at the elastic of Aziraphale’s own pajamas, freeing Aziraphale’s already flushed and aching erection to the cold air. Aziraphale hooks a finger around Crowley’s chin, pulls him back up to meet him in a slow kiss. His other hand grips Crowley’s hip, guides him down until the tip of Aziraphale’s cock is pressed against him.

“Go on then, darling, you take me so beautifully.” Aziraphale cups Crowley’s cheek softly, stroking a thumb along one sharp cheekbone. He rolls his hips only a little, just enough to get his point across. Crowley leans in to kiss him as he sinks down, letting out a hiss as he impales himself on Aziraphale’s cock.

Aziraphale sighs with pleasure. He loves the warm and welcoming heat of Crowley’s body, how they seem made to fit one another. He loves how these too-human bodies of theirs can take this pleasure from each other, can bring such heavenly sensations. Aziraphale focuses, can feel the blood pumping through his veins, can hear the beat of Crowley’s pulse quickening. He tightens his hold on Crowley’s hip, lifting him just slightly before slamming back into him again.

“Gorgeous thing, all mine,” Aziraphale says, whispering praise and adoration with every snap of his hips. “My only, my dearest one…”

All Crowley seems capable of at the moment is syllables, random and fleeting, ones that could be words in a language once known or could be gibberish. Crowley’s eyes are closed, his head thrown back. Aziraphale takes the opportunity to tilt himself up, to lave his tongue over that ever so tempting Adam’s apple. To kiss and to bite his lover’s skin, mark love into the bruises he leaves as he fucks Crowley hard and slow.

Crowley’s own cock goes untouched between them, but bobs heavy and flushed. “Angel…I can’t, I’m going to—“

“Yes, Crowley,  _ yes _ ,” Aziraphale pants into Crowley’s shoulder, gripping him tightly and fucking into him harder, “Come for me, I want to see.”

And come Crowley does, shouting intangible words to the ceiling rafters as Aziraphale thrusts into him. Aziraphale’s own release is building and cresting, hitting him like a wave on the shoreline as he spills into Crowley’s body, as he drags Crowley down into a bruising kiss.

He rolls them both over so Crowley is on his back, knees bent into his chest. Their kisses become sloppy; wet drags of mouths and tongues and panted I-love-you’s while Aziraphale’s cock softens inside of Crowley.

“Christ, angel,” Crowley says as he rakes his nails down Aziraphale’s back, “I love you,  _ fuck _ , I love you.”

“And I, you, my darling,” Aziraphale says as he kisses Crowley’s cheeks, his eyelids, starts trailing them down his neck and chest, “I’d have you again right now if you’d let me.”

Crowley lets out a low moan as he rolls his hips, cock growing hard again against Aziraphale’s stomach, “Yes, fuck, please, Satan’s sake.”

“Oh I was hoping you’d say that.” Aziraphale smiles and kisses Crowley deeply and passionately, swallows the moans off Crowley’s lips as his own cock stirs with renewed interest. The advantages of celestial bodies with no need for refractory periods.

“Did you make it bigger?” Crowley asks as Aziraphale repositions. Aziraphale throws Crowley’s legs over his shoulders, grips Crowley’s hips and cants them up off the bed so he can thrust harder, pushing his own spend deeper into his demon’s body and enjoying the slick slide of it.

“Are you complaining?” Aziraphale punctuates the question with a particularly hard snap of his hips that has Crowley’s back arching off the bed.

“B-bastard,” Crowley pants out as Aziraphale wraps a hand around his cock, pumping in time with his thrusts. Crowley is clenching around him, wet and hot. There’s a sheen on Crowley’s skin and his hair is plastered to his forehead, bruises are starting to form on his hips and the bite marks on his neck are mottled and red.

“Fuck, Crowley, you’re so beautiful…”

Aziraphale can’t help it, he sighs it out reverently like a prayer. He means it, in every facet of their life. Whether Crowley is done up to the nines with all his flash in his skinny jeans, or in a backless dress inspiring lust and jealousy at the opera, or covered in dirt from weeding in their back garden. He’s always beautiful and precious to Aziraphale.

He thrusts into Crowley with abandon as the demon whimpers underneath him. Crowley throws a hand back, gripping the iron of their headboard tightly, pushing himself down to meet Aziraphale’s rhythm. He moans as Aziraphale swipes the pad of his thumb over the sensitive area just under the head of his cock, back arching off the mattress. Aziraphale loves this, love seeing Crowley drawn tight like a bowstring. The demon’s eyes fall closed and his voice leaves him; his mouth falling open in breathy gasps as Aziraphale chases his second release.

Crowley cries out, a strangled and garbled thing, as he reaches his climax; come spurting onto his chest and Aziraphale’s. Crowley wraps his legs around Aziraphale, locks his ankles, encourages him deeper. Aziraphale has never been one to not give Crowley what he wants.

He fucks into him faster, entwines their fingers together as he pins Crowley’s hand to the mattress. Lets the animalistic and human need overtake him, relishes the warmth and the tightness of Crowley’s body.

“Angel, love you, precious dove, all mine,” Crowley babbles as he pushes Aziraphale’s sweat slick curls off his forehead, cups his cheeks with long fingers. His bright yellow eyes capture Aziraphale with their gaze, just like they always do. Aziraphale has spent hours cataloguing every fleck of amber, every hint of orange and gold and brown that dances through them, and he still can’t help but get lost there.

“Darling, Crowley,  _ my _ Crowley— _ oh!”  _ He groans low in his throat as he snaps his hips hard, one last time, spilling into Crowley as his legs shake. They both breathe heavy as they come down, Aziraphale against Crowley’s chest, covering him like protection. Crowley’s fingers lazily twirl the curls at the nape of Aziraphale’s neck as they trade slow kisses here in their bedroom.

“Can’t believe I get to have this,” Crowley finally says, softly like he’s afraid to be heard. His lips brush Aziraphale’s forehead, a gentle and fleeting thing. “Can’t believe I get to wake up and you’re here, after everything, I…I never thought…”

“Oh, my darling,” Aziraphale says as he rolls over, scooping Crowley up into his arms and holding him close. “I feel that way sometimes, too, but we made it here in the end. We have each other, always have. Always will.”

Crowley’s fingers drag through the blond hair on Aziraphale’s chest, mapping the hills and valleys of him, aimlessly wandering pilgrims. “Always…” Crowley says softly, a smile slowly spreading across his face as he turns to kiss Aziraphale again. And one more time. And then perhaps another.

After all, they have all the time in the world now. In this cottage, on this Earth, in this life full of love and comfort. Always.

  
  


**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [For in them dwelleth...](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28636080) by [MovesLikeBucky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MovesLikeBucky/pseuds/MovesLikeBucky)




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